The Joys and Burdens of Having Sisters

Not being able to remain asleep sometimes has beneficial effects although, at the moment, it may not seem so. The wee morning hours seem to lend themselves to the contemplation of things not usually worried about during the normal course of the day or that are easily put aside while one is busy with other things. This is the state in which I find myself tonight(there's that damn passive voice again, but it really is more my own voice than I care to admit, and has been for many years). Unfortunately, the topic of this rapidly evolving moment is that of having had the misfortune of being born first, ahead of all of my siblings, and being the oldest of three sisters. I have always wondered at the many pieces available written about the joys of having sisters, but do not recall many about the bitterness of having been placed in that relationship by the whims of nature and parental passions. On the one hand, such a bittereness seems quite trite and petty. On the other hand, it hurts like Hell and woke me out of a sound sleep; a time when my brain is too groggy to leap to its own defense and shrug off the suggestions creeping to the surface of my thoughts.

My youngest sister, who has declined being named in my blog, may be pursuing her PhD (without telling me she is doing so), ostensibly because she can, but possibly to prevent either of the other of us from "getting ahead" of her. Such events occur even at the expense of any sort of a relationship with, at least, her oldest sibling and are legend to me- hence the bitterness.

Please do not get me wrong here. I actually do wish her all the best in her pursuits, it is merely that I know her too well to not question at least some of her motivations, all of which is based upon events witnessed or heard about over the years, and I cannot help feeling the sting of her attitudes and her successes when they detract so largely from any I might be able to hope for or claim. She has been, is and likely will always be the same intensely competitive personality she has, as an adult, unleashed in my direction but never really shown to Patty, Dad, or much of anybody else. That she has been this way toward me most of our adult lives does not mean she has not sent gifts at the appropriate times of year or that she, in turn, has not had a lot of poop being sent back in her direction. She has certainly had her share of trials and ills, tragedies and stresses, too - as we all have had along our lives' paths, and she has overcome a great deal in the ensuing years as well, so I cannot and would not attempt to denigrate those very real and special moments for her. Yet the bitterness for me persists, to be dealt with as it emerges during these small and chilly night hours when my resistence is low and my brain is too sleepy to move rapidly elsewhere in thought.

There has certainly been love and a moderate, tepid sort of polite affection, but none of the warmth I spent on her in our youths when she would get herself into some kind of trouble and her older sister, probably something like a Rottweiller, would leap to her defense, snapping and snarling at all who might threaten her in the absence of one or both of our parents. Certainly none of that has ever been forthcoming from her in my direction and the hurt of it stings and edges the bitterness just a little closer to the surface where, it is likely, it will find its release in tears should the sensation become too strong to resist further.

There have been the moments when the triumphs of my sisters have so overshadowed any accomplishments I have managed in life that all of the recognition and celebration go to them while I am left to wonder why I have never been quite as important or quite as special to my family, as my two younger sisters. Patty got the "royal" wedding - or at least a large chunk of help and support for it - as well as being the only one to manage offspring. "The Nameless One" received the most incredible congratulatory party upon her graduation from college, with a limo and a sitting U.S. president included - at least for the graduation ceremonies - as well as our mother's particular pride and approval. I never got to feel that pride flowing in my direction, ever, and wonder if my entire effort in life has not become so totally eclipsed by these two sisters that it is hardly worth regaling my relatives with any of the pertinent details of such things in my life. It has, in the past, even gotten to the point of my wondering if the following exchange might not actually take place some day: "Well, "The Nameless One" has done thus and such again. She really is so-oo-oo remarkable and special and her entire family is so-oo-oo proud of her! And Patty has managed to overcome yet another terrible trial and is finally doing well and everybody is so-oo-oo proud of her two kids, too!" [They are really GREAT kids and I am a very proud Auntie]
"Oh, by the way, I believe they have an older sister, but no one really cares much about her. She's a real nobody."

From a stranger, I can tolerate this. From a stranger, I really do not care. But in my mind the people saying these things are friends and relatives who do not even recall my name because they are so-oo-oo focused upon my sisters and their meteoric lives that I am hardly even an afterthought. I was always under the impression that parents always recognized and remembered their first born, but have seen little evidence of it since we all reached our adult years. For me to not be as special as one or the other of my siblings is pretty much the norm for our family, and I have managed to live with it for the most part but, when it reaches the point of my feeling like I am being held at arm's length like some thing one intends to flick off of the end of one's finger - like an inconvenient booger - by any of the people I am supposed to be able to count on for love and support, it feels intolerable and really hurts - a lot.

I will probably end up in hot water for posting this but, if they bother reading my blog at all, they will likely miss this one anyway, which is probably for the best but I will at least have the comfort of knowing I finally verbalized my feelings, petty or otherwise, even though it is likely one or the other of my sisters will be doing something much too important for any attention to end up wasted in my direction - again.